Tales From the Left Side

There is an evil, sneaky conspiracy underfoot, and because I’m a slow child, I have only just begun to realize it. Yes, indeedy. The time has finally come to bring this malicious plot to light, and I’m the one to do it, if only because everyone else and their mama doesn’t seem to have the same issues I do. Therefore, I would like to hereby declare my view that the world is overrun by right-handed people who gleefully produce and craft and design and create and manipulate objects in such a manner that left-handed people (like myself) end up standing around in a befuddled state, confusedly scratching our heads and trying to figure out why various pursuits don’t work for us.

(Sorry. You still with me? It’s 2 a.m. and I’m madly working on a research paper. I think the writing style is leaking into my blog. Argh.)

So, to continue my right-handed conspiracy theory, check this out: If I try to open the refrigerator door with my left hand, I nearly crack my ribs in the process. Opening the lower kitchen cabinets with my left hand results in the cabinet doors soundly rapping my shins, which means I have to limp around for three days and give people fake excuses like, “I was working out, ok? It’s been a while since I’ve been running, ya know, that’s why…” Well, gosh, what do you expect me to say?? “Yeah, I haven’t quite mastered the art of opening the kitchen cabinets yet. I’m gonna try again tomorrow. Someday, I hope to get it right, insha’Allah…” Riiight.

If I turn on any faucet with my left hand, I end up with gallons of cold water down my sleeve. And, just the other day, I raised my car’s hood with the resolution of checking the fluid levels. I think automobile manufacturers must take some great, perverse satisfaction in angling the antifeeze/coolant container into the far corner, so that when I tried to re-fill it (using my left hand, of course), I ended up pouring half of the coolant all over the driveway instead of smoothly into the container. Oh yeah, and those oil stains on the driveway? Umm, I think those might have occurred when I tried to angle the oil-bottle opening in such a way that it would fit snugly into the spout and pour right in. Obviously it didn’t work out quite the way I envisioned. If you use your left hand, some random engine parts get in your way, so that it’s difficult to angle any container perfectly. Sliiiick.

I can’t even write with a ballpoint pen because, as I make my way across the page, I leave behind smudge marks over what I’ve already written, thus rendering my notes illegible. (Thank goodness for Urdu, the one language where I don’t have to worry about smudging.) And why is it that I wasted precious minutes struggling to free a CD from its case this morning (with my left hand), nearly snapping the disc in half during the course of my frustrated efforts…but when I switched to my right hand, the CD popped out oh-so-easily?

I bet you anything, those mean-spirited right-handed people are hiding out underneath my fridge and inside the kitchen cabinets and in the trunk of my car and perhaps even behind my daddy-o’s beloved geraniums…concealing themselves and observing my crazy antics and laughing maniacally at my sorry struggles to determinedly live my left-handed, rebel child life in a world customized to fit the needs of right-handed people. Blah to you all.

For the record, no, I am not a klutz. And no, I don’t have chicken-scratch handwriting (a hallmark of left-handed folks), thank you very much. Alhamdulillah. :)

Yes, I know this was a random, pointless post. I’m just trying to stay awake, yo. But you deserve some sort of an award for having made it this far. Send some du’as my way (please) and, here, write the rest of my research paper for me.

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